Thirty years ago today

“What we have here is the rarest of sporting events,” said Al Michaels in his pre-game analysis of the 1980 Winter Olympic hockey game between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. In more recent years, he reflected that the confluence of events leading up to the game was so extraordinary that something like it could never happen again. And I believe he is right about that.

In terms of the game itself, you had the Soviet hockey machine in high gear, mowing down opponent after opponent. A few months before the 1980 games, they came to America to play a series of exhibition games against NHL teams—and routed them. And in another exhibition game just three days before the start of the Lake Placid games, they crushed the U.S. Olympic team 10-3. The U.S. team, though playing in their home country, was not expected to win a medal. The Soviets were expected to win the gold and not be challenged.

But the U.S. went on a roll after a dramatic last-minute goal in their first Olympic game, tying highly favored Sweden 2-2. Buoyed with confidence, the team defeated Czechoslovakia and three other teams to advance to the medal round. Much to everyone’s surprise, they would play the Soviets on February 22, 1980.

Of course, this “extraordinary confluence of events” referred also to the world events that were going on at the time. The Iranian hostage crisis. The Russian invasion of Afghanistan. The American “malaise” and low national self-esteem of the late 1970s. The Cold War was as hot as any time since the Cuban Missile Crisis, and America seemed to be at its weakest. This hockey game just seemed like another area where the U.S. would be embarrassed.

But we all know the story. The U.S. would just not let the game get out of hand, and trailed by only one goal going into the final period. Then two quick goals halfway through the third period sent the Lake Placid crowd into bedlam. The team held precariously to a 4-3 lead to the very end, when Michaels bellowed what is probably the most famous broadcasting call in sports history: “Do you believe in miracles? Yes!”

The victory, and the gold medal (clinched two days later in a victory over Finland) led to a spontaneous outburst of patriotism in America. As team Captain Mike Eruzioine has said, the gold medal didn’t make us win the Cold War, or get the Russians to leave Afghanistan, but it sure did help people to feel proud about their country again. Instead of the constant television images of Iranians burning American flags, we saw people—Americans—enthusiastically waving the flag.

This game took place when I was two weeks shy of my fourteenth birthday, and it has always had a very special place in my memory. I think this is because it happened when I was at an age where I was first “waking up to the world,” in a sense. I was alive during the latter days of the Vietnam War and Watergate, but I was too young to say that I experienced these in a personal way.

But for me, the age of thirteen was when I started to pay attention (a little) to what was happening in the world, and what it all meant for my country. I can remember that the Iranian hostage crisis was the first real international story that I followed on a day-to-day basis, and like most Americans, I found it terribly frustrating. If America was a powerful country that stood for freedom and liberty, then why could we not get our hostages home?

So, I look back at the Miracle on Ice game as the first (of many) real, personal memories of a rekindling of American pride during this era. And while I agree that it had no real effect on ending the international crises of the day, I fondly remember this game, and the gold medal in Lake Placid, as a turning point of sorts for our nation.

Both of my sons enjoy watching the highlights of that game, as well as the various retrospectives and of course the 2004 movie Miracle. One thing I cherish is that I do not have to go to a history book or a highlight reel to reconstruct the magic of the Miracle on Ice game. Rather, I had the privilege to have lived through it as it happened.

Olympic update

So, are you catching much of the Olympics? I love the Winter Olympics. In fact, I like them better than the Summer Olympics. I think it is because the winter games have a lot of intriguing sports (and I’ll use that term loosely) that you just don’t see every day. Ski jumping, luge, and bobsledding come to mind.

One thing I realize as I watch some of these events is that I have no idea what is going on. But do you really need to know all the in’s and out’s when such riveting competition is taking place? Take the women’s curling competition last night. Now, if you are not aware, curling is a “sport,” fairly popular in Canada and now elsewhere, that combines the toughest and most grueling elements of shuffleboard, walking on an icy driveway, and trying to get a stain off the kitchen floor with a mop. The idea is to get the “stone” in the middle of the bullseye. I sat spellbound as the game between the U.S. and Japan came down to a measurement of which team’s stone was closest to the bullseye. As the judge proceeded to do the deed, one television announcer said to the other, “Now, tell us how they are going to do this.” I thought to myself, “No, first let me take a guess. They’re going to take some sort of ruler-like device, place it on the ice, and measure it. The measurement of lesser value will be the winner. Am I close?”

I also thought it was a lot of fun watching moguls the other night. I understood what the athletes were doing, but I had no idea what the commentators were saying. The course was pretty straightforward: lots and lots of moguls on a steep hill, with two ramps fairly evenly spaced, off of which the skiers would do some kind of spin-flip. Then they skied to the finish, raising both arms in victory regardless of how they did. Of course, I’d do the same thing if I was able to make it to the bottom of that hill. But as I said, the commentators lost me in a sea of euphemisms. Apparently several of the skiers didn’t “form it out” enough. Some “got big” while others needed to “get bigger.” Some of the best ones “got big” and “had a lot of heat,” while others performed with varying degrees of bigness and heat.

At some point I watched some luge, one of my favorites. It’s too bad that the Olympics got off to such a rough start on account of the luge tragedy. But as I watched, I chuckled as the commentator, as if trying to drive home a poignant observation, said that all of the competitors were within a few seconds of one another. Really? Let’s think about this for a second. Every luger (excuse me, “luge athlete”) wears a variation of the same silly, multi-colored one-piece outfit. They all lay flat on their back, on essentially the same device, and go down the same track. Why is it surprising that their times are all almost the same? I’m pretty sure that with a little practice, I could luge down that track and be within at least three seconds of a bronze medal. Except I wouldn’t wear one of those outfits.

Pretty bold claim, huh? Well, enough for now. I’ll keep watching . . . and listening to the coverage that makes it all so crystal clear.

Until next time, Go World!